


A Grand Gesture

by omaroma



Category: Single Parents (TV 2018)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:27:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24282067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omaroma/pseuds/omaroma
Summary: Set right after the season 2 finale, my take on one possible outcome for Angie and Will.
Relationships: Will Cooper/Angie D'Amato
Comments: 8
Kudos: 46





	A Grand Gesture

Set literally at the very end of season 2, before we find out what really happens...my take on a possible "Will & Angie" story line for the season 3 opener, told from Angie’s perspective. Spoilers for all sorts of things up to the season 2 finale, and just a whole lot of wishful thinking! I know I have other stories to work on finishing, but this one *I* needed most right now because I don't know how I'll get through the summer in quarantine while we wait word on renewal or wait for this story to continue for real!

* * *

“Butts!”

The scent of the snowman candle burned her nostrils a little bit...or was that from her impending tears? She wasn’t sure which stunned her more, remembering Will’s confession of love while they snuggled beneath the covers together (not a confession of _like,_ nor other vague _feelings,_ just a confident, comfortable, sighing, ‘I think I’m in love with you” that even now turned her insides to goo)--or remembering how easily and unquestioningly drunk-Angie had accepted it, with a sweet little “Mm-hmm!” and burying her nose further into his neck, pulling him close and letting his hands roam up and down her arm, cuddling through the night. She looked out the car window, as if the memory of such a tender, intimate moment was an intrusion on someone else’s privacy and not the romantic _something_ shared between _her_ and _Will._ Will!

Derek!

Gah!

Her eyes darted from Derek to the road ahead to the desert scene flying by outside the window, while the events of the last few days similarly whizzed past in her fuzzy mind (she was definitely sober now, if not a little hung over). Even just the past few _hours_ had her emotionally wrung out, what with the panicking at waking up in Will’s arms, the frustration at not being able to remember (because she had definitely thought that if _something_ ever were to happen between her and Will, it would have been pretty dang memorable), the alarm returning when she thought she’d ruined their friendship, the softening and hope that threatened to spill out of her when she had viewed the slideshow, the disappointment when he’d wished her well for her summer in Barstow, the longing and doubts and wishing things had gone differently as they pulled out of the driveway, the acceptance as she began to dig through the garbage-bag-suitcase-carryon Poppy had packed, and then the sudden realization that Will loved her and she, in fact, loved him back. 

So many things fell into place in a single moment that it was overpowering, and she wondered if she’d faint even as she allowed herself to remember them all. Like the time he’d “checked out her merchandise” a little too eagerly, when he had come to her rescue in Camarillo, when he had shown up at her house to talk about “friendship and relationships and complicated things” and then abruptly high-tailed it out of there for a nightly beach walk once she’d told him _her_ news, trying to talk her out of her summer plans to the point of even going in to talk with her boss and getting her job back, the slideshow with its stupidly sweet song _100 Years_ that she would never in one hundred years admit that she actually liked (and only Will Cooper could get away with that level of sappiness, anyway)...and most especially the fact that he had loved her enough to let her go, because _of course_ he did. Everything became clear in an instant, and her mind and heart were suddenly filled with all things _Will_.

She was having a hard time catching her breath. How blind was she? How _stupid_ was she? What had she done now? Good ol’ Angie, screwing up everything she touched. She shook her head to ward off the shame spiral she felt coming on. There was no time for this now! “Stop the car!” she heard herself yell out. Inertia jerked her forward and her seatbelt locked as Derek slammed on the brakes immediately. She turned to him patiently. “I kinda meant like pull over or something, but okay.” What the heck, the roads were somewhat empty right now anyway.

“Ah,” Derek said, moving his new car onto the shoulder before turning off the engine and turning in his seat to face her again, watching her expectantly, just waiting for her to break his heart.

It was too quiet. Why wasn’t he saying anything? Why was he just looking at her with that sad, strange expression on his face? What could she possibly say to make this okay for him? “Man,” she said nervously, almost unthinkingly, just to cut into the silence and buy herself time to think. “Where is a car chase or explosion or other crazy distraction in the middle of the desert when you need one, am I right?”

“It’s Will, isn’t it?” Derek said, surprising her once again with his straightforward perceptiveness. 

She debated denying it, but knew that wouldn’t be fair to anyone. “I’m sorry.” She realized as she said it aloud that she meant it. She and Derek really _were_ just finding their rhythm as co-parents, and she knew that the feelings between them were as messy and confusing for him as they were for her up until a minute ago.

“I get it,” Derek sighed. “But, I just thought--”

“I know.” She smiled apologetically at him. “Me too.”

“If things can change that quickly, maybe they’ll change back again,” he thought aloud. “I mean, I think you and I are pretty great together.”

Her smile turned sad. “We _were,_ ” she acknowledged. “And I _do_ care about you. I’m pretty sure I always will. But...but maybe we were just chasing shadows of those old feelings again because we thought we were alone, and-slash-or because of Graham.”

“Graham!” Derek almost shouted, as if he suddenly remembered the son that was the only thing they really had in common. “Oh, man! What are we going to tell him?”

Angie’s brows furrowed as she reached out for his arm. “We don’t really need to tell him anything, do we? I mean, it’s not like he knew that we were going to be in Barstow together anyway. Nothing needs to change there. I definitely still want you in our son’s life.”

“Just not in _your_ life,” he pouted adorably, and for a moment Angie remembered why she had loved the hot dufus almost a decade ago.

“In _my_ life, too, man! Just...maybe...not like _this._ ” She steeled herself. Sharing her thoughts, especially with Derek, was still far outside of her comfort zone. “Look, I _do_ think people change, Derek. You’re living proof of that! And I _do_ think that two ridiculously attractive people with this much history _can_ rekindle old sparks.” The word brought the memory of her last real encounter with him to the surface, and she added as an aside, “Hopefully without burning their houses down in the process. Sure, I haven’t _seen_ it happen,” she admitted, the memories of Poppy and Ron, Will and Mia, Miggy and Zara, and other friends who had failed encounters with their exes springing to mind, “but I know it happens. I just…” she sighed. “It’s just a lot easier to make a decision about my future once I know what my choices even are, you know? And I just...I just know.”

Derek nodded. “I really hope he makes you happy."

“He does,” she smiled, then felt guilty for smiling and rubbing her happiness and hope in Derek’s hot, sweet, stupid, sad face.

“And I hope that someday I can find someone that makes me that happy, too,” he said. 

Angie squeezed his arm before letting go. It was a little uncomfortable, not only talking about Will in those terms with Derek but admitting to feeling _feelings_ at all. And now she had absolutely _no_ idea what to say. “You will, Derek,” she said, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. “And you have Phoebe. Turtles are total chick magnets,” she joked, pleased when he laughed and some of the angst and disappointment dissipated from the car. “Thank you for understanding.”

He nodded. “I’ll drive you back home.”

“Home!” Angie shouted suddenly. “Aw, crap! I can’t go home! Those hunky subletters have taken over my house! It’s their first night, they’re probably throwing a rager as we speak!”

Derek’s eyes slid sideways to meet hers. “I mean, Phoebe and I can definitely still drive you to Barstow,” he offered. “You can stay with us for a few nights while you figure out what you want to do.”

Her head was already shaking, inspiration or a possibly insane plan taking shape in her mind. “Thank you, but no,” she said as she got out her phone. “I need you to leave me here.”

“What?” Derek protested. “No way! I am NOT leaving you on the side of the road again, Angie! I _have_ changed enough to learn from my mistakes, at least!”

Now her shaking head morphed into a nodding one. “Yes, you have, and yes, you are.” She reached out for his arm again, looking him straight in the eyes. “It’s okay,” she reassured him with a quick squeeze. “I’ll be okay. But I’m going to need all my trash bags.”

* * *

A few minutes later, with promises to call Derek for a ride if her plan didn’t pan out and more than a few garbage bags and cardboard boxes sitting at her feet, she watched Derek drive away. She knew he wasn’t too far if she ended up needing him, but her palms started sweating anyway. She really hoped she wouldn’t be needing him. She pulled out her phone again, took a deep breath, and dialed the only phone number she knew by heart. 

What if he didn’t pick up?

What if his feelings were too hurt?

What if he was drinking again to drown his sorrows and _couldn’t_ answer?

What if--

“Angie?” Hearing Will’s voice on the other end of the line, filled with concern and confusion, filled her heart with overwhelming emotion. All rational thoughts flew out of her mind. _What was the plan again?_

“Angie?” he repeated a little more uneasily. “Angie, are you there?”

_Speak, woman! Why aren’t you saying anything? Remember the plan!_

The huff and then sudden silence from the phone’s receiver startled her, and she pulled it away from her ear to look at the display. He had hung up! _Hung up on her, Angie D’Amato, the woman he was supposedly in love with! What the--_

She redialed the number.

“Angie?” he answered on the first ring. 

“Will?” she replied, her voice irrationally angrier and shakier than she had intended. She coughed to clear her throat, choking on words that wouldn’t come. What was happening to her?

“Angie, are you okay?” 

“No, I’m not okay, obviously!” she argued, because arguing was easier.

“What? Where are you? What happened?”

Angie looked frantically around for a mile marker or road sign. She had been so distracted earlier that she really hadn’t paid attention to the road. Maybe she hadn’t thought this through. “Uh…” she started, trying to keep the oncoming hysteria at bay. “I am...on the side of the highway somewhere between Barstow and LA,” she said, trying to quickly calculate mileage or conjure up a mental map. “Probably just past Covina, maybe?”

“Well, that’s super close,” Will said, sounding surprised. “Wait, what? I’d have thought you’d be almost to Derek’s by now.”

She didn’t miss the envious tone in his voice as he said Derek’s name, and, not gonna lie, she enjoyed it. “Well, y’know how road trips go. Bathroom breaks, gas station snacks, fighting over the music…”

“Angie,” he said, sounding tired now. “What’s going on?”

“Car problems!” she blurted out, immediately regretting it. That was _so_ not the plan!

“What? That’s impossible. The twins checked everything out right before you left, that doesn’t make any sense.”

“ _Unless_ ,” she countered frantically, waving a finger at him that he couldn’t see and thinking fast on her feet, “they were trying to _sabotage_ my road trip to make a little more money off of us! Yeah! They already took all the cash we had on hand as it is!”

“No way,” Will said emphatically. “Sure their prices might be a little steep, but their reputation is _way_ too important for them to ever…” The sentence trailed off. Angie somehow knew exactly what he was thinking, that maybe Douglas had convinced them to do some shady, shoddy work on Will’s behalf, perhaps for revenge or to stall and buy them some time. “Well,” he changed courses, and she knew his voice only sounded detached because he was forcing it, “I guess Derek will just have to call a licensed mechanic, then. I’m sure he has roadside assistance on that fancy four-door car of his, and there are tons of small towns nearby.”

“Derek isn’t here, actually,” she admitted, more nervous at his aloof words even though she knew exactly why he was saying them. “He, uh...he left me on the side of the road.”

“He did _what_ now?” Will replied, in a calm, clipped tone that she knew was really the beginning of a major eruption. “Are you _kidding_ me?” he yelled. “Angie, what the hell happened?”

Genuine tears sprang to her eyes, and she didn’t even know why. Were these tears of happiness and relief, or fatigue and worry, or something else she couldn’t identify? “Please, Will,” she softly said. “Can you just come pick me up? I want to come home.”

She heard a sigh on the other side of the phone as he wrestled down his own feelings. “Duh,” he said, making her laugh and easing the tension a little. “Just...don’t go hitchhiking or get picked up by any ne'er do wells until I get there.”

Angie couldn’t find it in her to roll her eyes at the moment, though she made a mental note to mercilessly tease him about his old-man vocabulary later. “Thank you,” she said with complete honesty. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

And, okay, maybe that wasn’t fair to him since she knew he didn’t know she knew how he felt (and now she was confusing herself further), but the heavy sigh that came through the phone was deeply gratifying all the same. “Heading out now,” he told her, jingling his car keys loudly to prove it. “Just hang tight, Ange.” 

“I’ll be the one with the candles,” she said.

“What--?” But she clicked on the red button before he asked too many questions and she lost her nerve.

Plan set into motion, now it was time for phase two.

Dragging over the cardboard box that was filled with her gas station holiday candles, she started arranging them into the letter I, a heart that was almost too small to be recognizable, and the letter U. She lit and rearranged them a few times, more to keep her hands busy so she didn’t have to think about how _hugely important and life-changing_ this moment was about to become. It didn’t look perfect, but maybe he’d figure it out, or maybe she could just tell him what it was supposed to say, or maybe the presence of the candles on a highway shoulder at dusk were enough to say it without words. She fished out a small speaker, hooked it up to her phone, and propped them up in between the bumps of one of her trash bags before pulling a tiny remote out of her shirt pocket. The remote and speakers had actually been a gift from Will, and she smiled in spite of herself at the recollection. No time for gushy feelings just yet! She needed to tidy up the garbage that was starting to spill out of her luggage. When that was completed much more quickly than she thought it would be, she walked over to her phone again, squatting in the sand and desert brush, searching in her music library for _100 Years_ and giving herself the mother of all pep talks. Before she knew it, she heard his car pull off onto the shoulder and the car door slam shut.

“Angie!” he yelled, and she could detect a hint of anger in his voice. While it was probably directed at Derek (unfairly, she made a mental note to clear that up eventually), she couldn’t help but wonder if he wasn’t also a little angry with her, and why shouldn’t he be? Sure, he didn’t knowingly say anything to stop her from leaving, but she _had_ left all the same, and maybe she should’ve known how he felt anyway. Some part of her kind of did, even if she had denied it. Maybe she deserved his anger. But also maybe he should lighten up? _Look at the candles, bro!_

He drew closer to her, seemingly oblivious to everything else but making sure she was safe and railing on Derek. After a minute of indulgence, she knew she had to nip that in the bud. “It’s not his fault--” she started.

He whirled around at her. “Are you _kidding me_ right now?” Will furiously shot back. “Angie, the man _abandoned you. Again!_ He left you on the side of the road, _again!_ How can you _still_ be defending him right now? What sick, twisted hold does he have on you that makes you so--”

“Shut up, Will!” she stopped him before he could say something hurtful. This was _not_ going the way she had imagined. “Just, shut up and listen, okay?” 

She pressed play on the remote control that was linked to her phone and speaker, hoping that the introduction to _100 Years_ would drastically change the mood for them both and remind her why she wanted him here. She opened her mouth to give her prepared speech. But instead, a delicious, screeching guitar lick pierced the nighttime air.

“What the hell?” Will asked, covering his ears.

“Crap!” Angie yelled out, a little sad that he still didn’t share her love for this kind of music, instantly recognizing it as _100%_ by Sonic Youth. “Wrong song!” She held out both hands. “Just wait here, give me a minute, I’ll fix this!”

“What are you talking about?” Will asked, his hands still on his ears but watching her warily as she nervously waded through the candles. In her haste, she knocked over a few candles that made up the heart in her message (that he clearly wasn’t getting), and the surrounding desert brush caught on fire.

“CRAP!” Angie shouted, pulling her foot away and brushing her hands over the hem of her pants to extinguish some small flames. “ _I stick a knife in my head,”_ the lyrics called out across the open sky. _Okay, this isn’t going well,_ she thought, and in her distracted fumbling towards the phone she knocked over a few more candles. “Isn’t the desert just _sand?”_ she indignantly yelled out to the universe. “Where did all these _plants_ come from, anyway?”

Will ran to his car and popped open the trunk, pulling out a little travel-size shovel, visibly shaking from so many repressed emotions. “Should we call 911?” he yelled as he ran back towards the fire that was soon going to be out of their control. 

“NO!” Angie shouted back. “I’m NOT going to jail with you again over this!” she yelled, and she ran around stomping out the small fires, only to catch the tips of her pants on fire again.

“Angie, are you _crazy?_ What are you _doing?”_ Will almost shouted as he grabbed her arm and frantically pulled her away from the small blaze. First he put out the fire around her ankles. Then he dug the shovel into the sandy earth and tried to smother the flames with some moderate success. The concern in his voice was unnerving and endearing at the same time. Once he was satisfied that the fire was under control, he whirled back to face her. “What are you _doing,_ Angie?” he yelled again.

“I’m _trying_ to make a grand gesture, dude!” Angie waved her arms around madly. “I’m _bad_ at this, okay?”

Will’s brow furrowed as he froze and looked around, processing what she was saying. “Wait,” he said more quietly now. “You did all of _this_ ...for _me_ ?” She watched him slowly register the position of the candles and breathe in the now-slightly-smoky desert air as he eyed the open road, looking towards Barstow as she looked at him. The shovel slipped from his hand and fell to the ground with a _thud_. He froze in place, but his eyes lifted to meet hers.

Suddenly all the feeling left her entire body except for a fluttering, squeezing feeling somewhere in her abdomen. Intestines? Spleen? Was she dying? Who knew. Maybe that would be a blessing, because this was clearly a mistake. A huge, dumb, embarrassing mistake. He had been drunk, after all, when he’d said the words. Maybe he didn’t really mean it. Maybe this was all too much. Her eyes flitted around the scene (a spectacular disaster, full D’Amato-style) like a wild animal that had been backed into a corner. But the dying firelight also played across the angles of his face in the same way that her snowman candle had when she had tucked herself in with him on her living room floor last night, and it gave her a tiny jolt of courage. She couldn’t keep the panicked thoughts from spilling from her lips. “This is what happens when I let my mush out! Why couldn’t you have just been _boring_ or _dumb_ or a _jerk,_ like every other man? Y’know, this is _your_ fault, if you really think about it. Why did you have to go be all sweet and kind and funny and dorky and _you_ , and--”

“Angie.” She suddenly noticed that he had taken a few slow steps closer, hands out as if she were a wild horse and he was afraid of spooking her into a bolt (which, she mused, might be a pretty dang accurate comparison right about now). 

She looked at him, one moment wishing she could rewind and undo everything, pleading that he would read her mind and forgive her and still be her friend after this insane fiasco--but in the next moment hopeful, now that she saw his eyes trained on hers with a new sense of understanding and purpose. Her feet itched to run, but she forced herself to stay in place and see what would happen.

Another step now, and he was close enough to reach out and stroke her cheeks, holding her head in his hands, keeping his gaze steady on hers, some of his fingers lightly touching her neck in a way that made her breath hitch. Her eyebrows lifted almost in surprise. She blurted out with a nervous, anticipating whisper, “Why is your face so close to my face?” 

He closed the little distance between them, reaching down to kiss her gently. The volcano of nerves in her gut suddenly transformed into a burst of light and heat that radiated outward to her toes and made her light-headed. She eagerly deepened the kiss, and he tenderly complied. So _this_ is what it felt like to be kissed by someone who knew you completely and loved you anyway. She felt his arms wrap around her and pull her closer, impossibly closer. When she reached her arms up around his neck, the hem of her shirt lifted up a little, and the feeling of his hands moving across the skin of her waist caused her to gasp involuntarily. He took the opportunity to breathe, too.

Before the moment got away from them both, she pulled away, eyes still closed but smiling before licking her lips, relishing the taste of _him_ that still lingered on them. Was that _her_ that hummed contentedly, or him? She opened her eyes almost shyly, worried that maybe this was a dream after all or maybe he hadn’t enjoyed that as much as she had...but _of course_ _he was interested_ because she was Angie Freaking D’Amato and eventually _everyone_ buys the merch, right? Even Will Cooper. “Well, at least we know _that_ works,” she joked quietly.

Will huffed out a laugh, and she was happy to hear it was as winded as she was feeling in that moment. "You have no idea how long I have wanted to do that." He beamed at her and shook his head in disbelief like he had just won the lottery, and his hands came back to her jaws while he kissed her sweetly once more.

When they pulled away again, she caught herself gazing into his eyes so longingly she almost rolled her eyes at herself; she must have looked like quite the dork. But she didn’t even care. She had been adored before, and lusted after before, and she’d had a few someones say ‘I love you’ before, but this feeling of being _seen_ and _known_ and _loved_ and, yes, _cherished_ and _wanted_ at the same time, and feeling all those things _back_...this was new, and terrifying and electrifying and familiar all at once. And she liked it.

“So…” she hesitated, unsure what to say or do now.

“Wow, you really _are_ bad at this,” he teased, kissing her forehead and then taking her hands in his. 

“The candles said ‘I love you,’ by the way,” she said nonchalantly, waving their entwined hands towards the sad pile of candles, gratefully noting that the danger had passed. “I guess I should figure out a way to stay away from fire in romantic situations. I think I might be cursed!”

He chuckled, turning to help gather her belongings and pack them into the car before suddenly halting again. “Wait, what?”

“Cursed,” she explained, even though she really thought he would have followed along _this_ train of thought. “You know, because of the...printer fire...and then the candles…”

“No, I meant…” Will swallowed and looked at her again. “Did you just...say that you love me?”

Despite the kiss, despite her memories, she still lost her nerve a little. “What? Did I? I mean…”

“Don’t you dare ‘I mean’ me in this moment, Angie D’Amato,” Will warned her fondly with a pointed finger.

“Okay, _fine_ !” she blurted. “I said it! But _you_ said it first!”

“What?” he denied. “When?”

She wanted to wring his neck and kiss him again at the same time, but apparently his memory hadn’t come back to him as quickly as hers had. Opening her mouth to tell him all about it, she was surprised when, instead, out of her lips came the words, “Pretty much everything you say and do.” _Where had she heard that before? Oh, right…_

Will sputtered a little. “Wh--I do not--I mean…”

“No!” she wagged a finger back at him, “don’t _you_ dare ‘I mean’ me right now, Will! But...well...I _do_ mean it, that pretty much everything you ever say and do screams ‘I love you’ and I was just too selectively deaf to hear it. I’m sorry about that, by the way.” He looked stunned, and probably was. “But you also said it last night, when I snuggled up next to you, because _I_ might have been the cuddler, but _you_ were the confessor. So, unless you _didn’t_ mean it--”

“I am deeply, insanely, maddeningly in love with you,” he replied, suddenly serious. He tugged her hand and resolutely pulled her to him for another searing kiss that left no room for doubt, only pulling away when they heard some honking and they realized they were still on the side of the road and should probably head back home for a more private...discussion. They got into the car. Only one problem remained...home!

“Hey,” she threw out casually as though the idea had just come to her, “here’s a crazy thought. With Sophie and Graham gone for the summer, and the four subletters Rory picked out providing me a pretty sweet cash flow for a few months…I should probably kick them out, especially since we left, like, _all_ of our things just laying around the house...” her nerves were getting the better of her again. Why couldn’t she just spit it out?

“Stay with me.” The words sounded more like a statement than an offer, and it honestly thrilled her.

“Are you sure?” she asked. “I mean, I know I’m not exactly a slow mover, but this is--”

“Hugely, wildly, ridiculously fast,” he agreed, nodding while completing her sentence. “Yes, it is.” He laughed self-consciously, but then looked at her and she _knew_ that look. It was the same sincerity she had seen on the hood of his car as they ate Ratso’s last year, the same affectionate gaze they’d shared at Christmas in the cabin, the same assurance as he’d had on the bed in that B&B in Camarillo. “But, also, you’ve been my best friend for most of the two years I’ve known you, and I’ve been in love with you for a pretty big chunk of that time, too, and I really, _really_ want to kiss you again, like, as often as humanly possible,” (she laughed at that) “and the kids are gone so we actually have a little time to figure this out. So…” he looked right at her and squeezed her hand. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

The feeling of her insides melting at his openly romantic offer was almost too much to handle. She leaned over suggestively, looking like she was about to kiss him, but instead at the last minute she reached out and turned the key in the ignition. The engine came to life.

Will gave out a sigh of desire and closed the distance between them again. She happily let him kiss her over and over, knowing they’d safely make their way home...eventually. And after that? Well, she wasn't sure. But she definitely looked forward to finding out what happened next.

  
  



End file.
